


One

by edema_ruh



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Character Analysis, Character Study, Dad!Tony, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Hmmm so much pain, Hopeful Ending, Infinity War spoilers, POV Tony Stark, Poor Peter Parker, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Temporary Character Death, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark-centric, i guess, movie compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-28 21:48:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14458455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edema_ruh/pseuds/edema_ruh
Summary: His heart is beating fast and hard inside his chest, perhaps dangerously so, but it doesn’t skip a beat until he hears a hesitant “Mr. Stark…?” coming from behind him.It’s at this moment that Peter’s voice calls his attention, and god, the kid’s insistence at calling him Mr. Stark had been nothing but annoying so far, and yet Tony had never dreaded hearing that title so much in his life before.Major Infinity War Spoilers.





	One

**Author's Note:**

> This story contains major spoilers for Avengers: Infinity War (2018).

His heart is beating fast and hard inside his chest, perhaps dangerously so, but it doesn’t skip a beat until he hears a hesitant “Mr. Stark…?” coming from behind him.

He turns around in seconds, but it feels like hours. It feels like hours because until then, he’d been shocked; he’d been completely baffled by Mantis disintegrating, and only when Drax and Quill followed her, their ashes dissipating into thin air, was when Tony began to realize what was happening. Thanos had probably done it – he had succeeded in his insane plane of killing off half of the universe. They had _failed_. As he watched, filled to the brim with shock and confusion, his counterparts disintegrating, he turned to look at Strange, who looked pale and almost apologetic, but never, never regretful. Tony wanted to accuse him, to say that he was the one to blame for giving up the time stone not only too easily, but for something as insignificant as _his_ life, but it feels wrong to accuse him when the man is staring up at Tony like that.

“Tony”, Strange says, and a knot appears in Tony’s throat because somehow, he knows what’s coming next. He knows what’s going to happen to Strange, and before he can do anything, before he can even think of something to do or a way to help, the doctor continues: “There was no other way”.

And he stares off at the distance and becomes nothing but dust and ashes.

It’s at this moment that Peter’s voice calls his attention, and god, the kid’s insistence at calling him _Mr. Stark_ had been nothing but annoying so far, and yet Tony had never dreaded hearing that title so much in his life before. His body reacts before his mind catches up with Peter’s call, and he turns around, all the dread and horror that had been building up inside of him finally showing on his face. Because yes, seeing people crumble into nothing around him was _terrifying_ , but Tony didn’t _know_ them. Tony didn’t even have the proper time to realize what was going on as they vanished into thin air; his mind didn’t have the time to compute the situation. But once Peter called him, Tony knew. Tony _knew_ , just from the tone of the kid’s voice, that there was something wrong. There was something very wrong about to happen.

But there couldn’t be.

Oh, god, that couldn’t be happening. Not to Peter. Not to _the kid_.

Tears raise to Tony’s eyes despite of his best efforts, and he simply stares at Peter once he turns around, not daring to blink. If he blinks, the kid could disappear forever, but if he keeps looking at him, maybe he’ll be ok. Maybe he won’t disintegrate. Tony keeps looking at Peter, and he might as well not have vocal cords, because he wouldn’t have been able to say anything even if he wanted to. He just _stares_ ; unaware of how the all-consuming fear and dread he feels is seeping into his facial expression. The silence is deafening.

Peter looks pale, paler than he should ever be, and he takes a step forward that looks way more like a stumble. Tony can see it in Peter’s eyes that the kid is afraid, but Peter’s fear is just a mirror of his own at this point. He looks at his arms and at the lower half of his body as if searching for the cause of his discomfort, but when he finds nothing that could be physically harming him, his eyes quickly shoot back up to stare at Tony, a silent plead on them.

“I don’t feel so good”, Peter says, voice so painfully afraid that Tony wants nothing more than to hug him and comfort him. He vaguely remembers telling Peter that they weren’t in hugging terms yet, in what felt like a million years ago. His heart skips a beat.

“You’re alright”, Tony ends up blurting out, because there is so much raw fear and hesitation on Peter’s face and this is the only way Tony can find to comfort him. Because Peter doesn’t deserve what’s about to happen. He shouldn’t even _be_ here.

 _I mean, if anything, it’s kind of your fault I’m here,_ he had said, back when Tony first found him on the ship.

“I don’t… I don’t know what’s happening”, Peter continues, and his voice sounds wobbly and just as childlike as he tries so hard not to be. Peter has never looked so much like the kid Tony seems to always call him – young, and vulnerable, and terrified, and in desperate need for help. “I… I don’t…”, he’s trying to walk towards Tony, but he ends up collapsing against him, arms wrapping themselves around Tony and all he can do is hold Peter. He tightens his arms around Peter’s waist as the boy clings to him, growing weaker by the second.

There’s a small moment of silence that couldn’t have lasted more than a second, but that feels like an eternity to Tony. Sustaining Peter’s weight and holding the boy so close, he can feel the way Peter’s breathing is constricted and he’s sure that fear is not the only factor interfering on that. Peter is young but he is heavy, and Tony isn’t sure that he can hold him up any longer, especially because of the way the boy’s legs are growing limp beneath him.

Peter draws in a shaky breath and clings to Tony with what seems to be all that’s left of his strength, almost as if he thinks that by holding Tony close, he won’t be able to be harmed. Almost as if he thinks Tony can _protect_ him.

And by god, Tony should be able to protect him. Tony should be able to protect at least ~~his~~ this kid from harm, but Peter is almost completely limp on his grasp at this point, breathing heavily, and to his horror, he thinks he can feel Peter’s tears trickling down his shoulders.

“I don’t wanna go”, Peter says, voice small, shaky and wobbly. His fingers are digging into Tony’s back, but he doesn’t mind. He tightens his arms around him, trying to offer whatever comfort he can. “I don’t wanna go, sir, please”, he adds, and Tony’s heart is breaking, his whole soul is breaking but there’s nothing he can do. There’s absolutely nothing he can do to help Peter, to _save Peter_ , and he has never, ever felt that helpless in his life before.

How could he ever think about having a child with Pepper when he can’t even keep Peter safe?

“Please, I don’t wanna go”, Peter continues, and Tony knows that he’s crying. This only makes everything worse, because Peter always tries to put up a grown-up, mature façade whenever he’s around Tony, probably to prove himself, but the fact that he’s openly crying on Tony’s shoulder and begging for his life in a shaky voice is just another evidence of how absolutely afraid Peter is. Tony feels tears pooling in his eyes as well. “I don’t wanna go”, he says one more time, going completely limp and yet never letting go of Tony, as if the billionaire is the only anchor he has left with reality. Tony can no longer sustain Peter’s weight by himself and lets the boy fall back, allowing one of his hands to rest beneath Peter’s back, sustaining him and offering him some sort of comfort, while placing his other hand on the top of the boy’s chest as if to keep him in place.

He wants to say something, anything. He wants to reassure Peter that he’ll be fine and that no harm will come to him, but Tony knows that this is not true. He knows that he’s about to lose this kid, he’s about to lose Peter, and yet he can say nothing. No last words. No goodbyes. No comforting lies. He’s a coward. And as much as he doesn't want to admit it, deep down inside him there’s still a tiny shred of hope that Peter will be fine, that he’ll get out of this unharmed and that he won’t die because of Tony.

He can’t die because of Tony. He can’t.

_If anything, it’s kind of your fault I’m here._

Peter’s face is losing its terror and becoming slacker, almost as if he’s resigning. His eyes are full of tears when he looks at Tony, and there is something akin to an apology in his expression. Tony knows that this is the moment in which he should say something, but the words don’t find themselves past his lips. They are obstructed by the knot in his throat, and Tony simply holds Peter, desperate to help him but helpless to do so.

“I’m sorry”, Peter says, and before Tony can even acknowledge the words, before he can do anything, before he can apologize for getting Peter killed or tell him how much he cared about him or at least _say goodbye_ , the boy disintegrates beneath his grasp.

Tony tumbles forwards as Peter’s body disappears from beneath him, only ashes in its place. Some of them cling to his blood-covered hand and Tony stares at it in horror, foolishly and instinctively trying to wipe it off clean with his other hand before realizing that this would only make things worse. He shifts on the ground, still looking at his hand and at what was left of Peter, of the boy who was like a son to him, of the boy who had trusted him, and admired him, and _died_ because of him.

_It’s kind of your fault I’m here._

Tony can do nothing but close his eyes and take his hands to his face because if he keeps seeing the orange hue of Titan and the dust and ashes of everyone who had just died he would freak out. He would freak out even harder than he already was, and freaking out was not good, _not good at all_ , and the last thing he needed on that exact moment was a panic attack.

But how could he _not_ freak out when Peter Parker had just died and his body just slipped right past his fingers? How could Tony not lose his mind when the deadly remains of the kid were still glued and attached to his hand? To his skin? To his blood?

_It’s your fault I’m here_

He feels like puking and instead just breathes, in and out, and it takes him a while to realize that he is rocking to and fro, to and fro, to and fro, but he doesn’t really care. He’s vaguely aware that the blue woman who had appeared out of nowhere to help them was still standing somewhere behind him, but Tony couldn’t bring himself to give her any attention. He felt like a horrible person for wishing that it had been her to disintegrate instead of Peter, but the overwhelming guilt and pain he feels deep inside his chest overcomes any other negative feelings he might have. The only thing his grief is incapable of overcoming is his _guilt_ , which is smothering him like the weight of a whole moon falling on his shoulders.

_It’s your fault_

He knows he can’t stay there; he knows he can’t just sit and close his eyes and cry for Peter as if the entire universe isn’t crumbling to dust around him at that exact moment. He knows he needs to stand up, get out of this godforsaken planet and make Thanos pay for what he’s done, but the weight in his chest is heavy, pinning him to the floor like gravity, and he can’t convince himself to open his eyes. He can’t _bear_ the idea of opening his eyes and seeing just the ashes, of seeing _Peter_ , still glued to his hands, still clinging to him even after death. He feels the phantom digging of Peter’s fingers on his shoulders from when he held on Tony like a lifeline, and the knowledge that these fingers, that these arms, that this body, that _Peter_ no longer existed was too much. The knowledge that a mere half an hour ago Peter was standing right there, smiling and being a hero, and now he was no longer, was too much. Everything was too much.

_It’s your fault_

Did he really think he could settle down with Pepper? To have a family? To have _kids_? The whole dream seemed ludicrous now, as Tony sat at the dusty floor of an alien planet with the remains of the boy he loved like a son still attached to his skin. He felt stupid for ever believing that he, of all people, would ever be able of something so mundane as settling down. Of starting a family. Of finding _happiness_. Tony wasn’t built for being happy – he had never been. Pain and grief followed him and those around him like a plague, and it cost him so much. It had always costed him so much.

_It’s your fault_

_Please, I don’t wanna go_

_I don’t wanna go, I don’t wanna go_

Tony Stark hadn’t been born to be happy, but there was one thing he was good at. There was one single thing he excelled at doing, no matter the cost ( _a normal life_ ), no matter the circumstances ( _Afghanistan_ ), no matter the time ( _10 suits in one day_ ), no matter the place ( _an alien planet_ ): fixing things.

_Tony, I’m sorry_

He would do his best to fix everything or he would die trying.

**Author's Note:**

> This scene in the movie left me so shook that I couldn't NOT write it. This is just a little something I wrote very quickly as a (pseudo-therapeutic) way to deal with everything that happened in this marvelous movie. Hope it didn't turn out too bad.  
> Kudos and comments are widely appreciated; so is constructive criticism!  
> You can always find me on tumblr as edema--ruh or on twitter as @turbofitzs (yes, I changed it again)
> 
> This story's title is from Metallica's song, One.


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